


Freaky Frozen

by justonemoreartist



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoreartist/pseuds/justonemoreartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where twins Helena and Elsa were the crown princesses, the former grew to become the queen whose economic decrees would threaten the livelihood of a certain ice master, whose response is ill thought out and has even worse consequences. Your obligatory bodyswap fic (AND with different genders!). Contains eventual Onion/Kristoff "Kristelsa".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a discussion on body swapping. The title was given to me and was too good to pass up.
> 
> I do, I swear, have some things written for StGP and TBatB; unfortunately sometimes I get yanked away by ideas and can't stop myself...
> 
> Content Warning: Swearing including slurs, non-consensual sexual situations, violence; all the goodies are present. Oh and it's a body swap fic, so, y'know, there's that too. You have been warned.

"By order of her Royal Majesty Queen Helena of Arendelle, this land is to be given over to the…to the…I can't pronounce this name… Something Mining Company within one month's time. Any settlers, trans-i-ent or otherwise, will be considered trespassers at the end of this time and receive their doe-sorry, due punishment. Should any…require compensation, their pleas may be addressed by the queen at her lesson. Lesion. _Leisure_. Provide repression in a-"

Grandpabbie smacked Kristoff with the back of his hand. "Representation! The word is clearly representation, not repression! Read more carefully."

Kristoff winced. "Sorry." He had always had trouble with the r-words. He looked down at the paper in his hands, smoothing over the hole left by the nail. He glared at the words, written as they were in the swooping, elegant way that screamed a palace scribe, with only a little scribble down at the bottom evidence of the queen's handiwork. That and the seal.

"…provide representation in a timely manner. If no rep-re-sen-ta-tion is provided, the land is automatically considered forgotten-forfeit, sorry, and will be turned over. Pleas made after this deadline of one month will not be heard. Signed….and there's her signature." He dropped the paper into his lap and his head into his hands. "Fuck."

Grandpabbie smacked him again. "No swearing." He was tapping his bare foot against the ground as he frowned up at his adopted son who, despite towering over the tiny troll, was nonetheless quite small in comparison.

"But don't you see what this means?" Kristoff asked, holding the paper up and shaking it like it was the one responsible for his newest fear. "It means that not only are you going to lose your home, _our_ home, but they're going to dig up all the crystals and precious stones in this area. It'll lose all the magic that you've been cultivating here for…for centuries!" Now was as much a time as ever to curse their new queen. Not even two years on the throne, and already she had shown dangerous signs of being far more involved in the running of a country than her parents, who had preferred to remain within the city for the most part. No, Queen Helena seemed determined to make up for her parents' neglect by personally instituting changes throughout the kingdom.

Kristoff hated change. It usually meant something bad was being replaced by something worse, and this was no exception.

Grandpabbie gestured at the paper and Kristoff handed it to him, shoving his now empty hands into his pockets. The wizened troll's eyes skimmed quickly over the words, far faster than Kristoff's stumbling, and the man allowed himself a brief sulk at being forced to read it for him when he struggled with letters so much. Of course, that was probably why Grandpabbie had made him read it.

"Representation…" the troll murmured. The way he said it did not sit well with Kristoff. The way he looked up at him did not seem good. And the way he smiled in the slow, sly way of someone coming to a decision did not make Kristoff happy at all.

"I knew there was a reason why we kept you, boy," he said, patting Kristoff's knee as the man slumped on his rock. Of course.

* * *

"Keep moving, boy," the guard said, jerking his head toward the throne as Kristoff stopped to stare. He shuffled forward obligingly, but didn't stop looking around him in open-mouthed awe. He was used to cobblestone pathways that gave way to dirt and snow game trails; this red carpet poured over a floor as smooth as polished glass, and just as reflective, felt almost sinful to tread upon. The pillars were made of the same material and had thick drapes hung between them, ones that looked like they would have made for excellent cloaks, heavy and impervious to the winter cold.

His boots, which he had cleaned thoroughly this morning, looked haggard and worn beside the gleaming black leather ones the guard wore. Kristoff glanced down and was unsurprised to see his reflection in those boots. A short, irritated tap on his elbow got him to step forward once more, following the line in front of him of men and women in similar states of dress: patchy and mismatched with obvious signs of hasty cleaning. They looked laughably out of place compared to their handlers, whose beautiful clothing served the function of being beautiful clothing, and not jackets and boots to keep their bearers warm during the long winter.

Though it was a blistery February morning outside, inside the palace was just on the pleasant side of warm; neither too stuffy nor too chilly, with the well banked fires attended to by servants who knew what they were doing. The only sign of the true weather was the swirling snow outside as it was blasted to and fro by the gales as they swept down from the mountains. Sven at least was warm and happy in the stables, housed with the other beasts of burden, from oxen to donkeys to ponies who were chomping at the hay and oats right now, filling their bellies while they could. The great mounts for the royal family and their noble guests, of course, were housed separately.

The hall was filled with people, all corralled together into a line and led, one by one, up to the dais that rose from the floor in short steps, a supplicant kneeling at the top step as he plead his case to the woman in front of him.

Settled into the throne was the queen.

Kristoff didn't need the throne, or the crown, or the guards flanking her, or even her resplendent clothes to pick her out as the queen. All he needed was the look in her eyes, the set of her shoulders, and the tilt of her head that lifted her pert nose just slightly, her full lips drawn into an expressionless mask that was somehow both regal and unnerving. It wasn't as though she was looking down upon her subjects, but rather right through them, their concerns addressed while their bodies were directed away once they'd been dealt with.

It made his skin crawl, and once again he found himself longing for scratchy straw and a drooling, smelly reindeer with soft fur to sink his fingers into.

When she spoke, the sound did not travel, though the hall was quiet, devoid of all sound but for the wind hissing against the windows and the fires crackling. Even the people were hesitant to make noise, restraining the urge to shift or fidget and instead stood as still as stones, ones that were dragged forward by scowling guards who let go as soon as their charge was in place. Kristoff watched over the heads of those in front of him as her lips moved without her face changing at all. She glanced her left side, gesturing with one small hand, her signet ring glinting with the movement, and a man beside the throne bearing a box stepped forward. The man who had been on his knees now rose and, bowing repeatedly, hastened over to the box and took out two gold coins. He was reaching for a third when the box snapped shut of its own accord and a chill shot through the line, making everyone shudder.

Queen Helena's voice carried this time. "Our generosity in your time of need is not to be mistaken for charity. You will receive that which is necessary for you to continue to be of use to the crown; anyone who seeks further riches will be turned aside with nothing." For once, her eyes betrayed an emotion: one of disgust, and the man cringed, turning away. She watched him go, her lips thin and turned downward at the corners. It made her look lovelier, if it was at all possible.

Kristoff blinked, straightened, and moved forward. He was that much closer to the front now.

The queen entertained some subjects longer than others, at times stroking her chin with one hand as she listened to their tales. Some she turned away at the mere sight of them, some she examined closely and then waved on, and a precious few received a few trinkets or pieces of gold here and there. One woman who described a thriving fishing business that had been brought to its knees by the destruction of their single ship was given the deed to a smaller one and a loan that would be paid in full if the owner wished to be looked upon kindly by the crown should this happen again.

It was then that Kristoff began to notice a pattern. Where others might be swayed by those people who stood in rags and wailed about their hardships, suffering, and hopelessness, the queen had little to say in response to those, sending them away with nothing but empty hands and hollow eyes. But if someone were to explain how they had been performing important work and the hands of fate had played a cruel trick upon them, they would be rewarded with new opportunity, albeit a small boon to take back with them.

His heart sank at the thought. Though the trolls' homestead was valuable to them, for spiritual, magical, and personal reasons, it would be infinitely more valuable to a mining company, who would profit immensely from the crystals they would find. This especially so when they discovered that those crystals were of particular use in capturing and focusing magic. And since he had nothing in his arsenal but a plea to let the trolls and himself keep their ancestral home, he knew where this was going.

…well. There was one other trick up his sleeve, but since he had no reason to believe it would even work…

At last there was no one between himself and the queen, and he knelt, as he was instructed by the guard at his elbow. He looked up, and just kept looking for a moment.

The queen was a slender young woman, hardly older than he was, but she had the set back of a monarch twice her age and experience, and her arching, unimpressed eyebrows suggested an intellect that was equal to that of her father. Unlike her younger sisters, her hair, cut scandalously short for a woman, was a brilliant blonde, so light it could be mistaken for white in the wrong setting.

Her twin, seated to her right on a lower chair, was just a few minutes too young to be the heir, and so she occupied the supportive role. The Princess Elsa was the spitting image of their mother, from what paintings he'd seen of her, from her quiet but generous smile to her long, braided hair that looked like chocolate spun and done up into a beautiful display. Their little sister Princess Anna was as rosy cheeked and redhaired as a girl of fourteen was prone to be. She was to the right of her older sister, with Princess Elsa watching the proceedings with a calm but measured eye while Princess Anna's feet tapped lightly against the floor as though she was itching to dance. Her teal eyes, so different from those of her sisters, darted around the room as she took in everything and everyone with equal pleasure. He could see the elements of their mother in both.

But Queen Helena had, it seemed, descended directly and only from her father, and yet lacked the detached compassion that others spoke so highly of, that mix of superiority and empathy that made for an excellent king. In its place was the shrewdness of a businesswoman, one who would support those ventures destined to succeed and ignore utterly those who had only come to beg.

Her eyes, a pale blue that was the color of a robin's egg in the faint morning light, were clear as she watched him, though they grew darker as the silence stretched on.

He swallowed thickly and began.

"Your Majesty, I come from the Valley of the Living Rock. I live there and make my home there." He frowned; that was redundant. He plunged on. "In a month's time, you-your Majesty, will be giving it to the…to a mining company, and I beg you to reconsider. My family has lived there for…generations" – it seemed odd to describe it as such, since the same trolls had been living there for centuries, but it made sense in the human context – "and it would be cruel to take their land away from th-"

"Have you a deed for the land?" the queen asked. She had made no sign that she'd heard anything more than his first sentence.

"Ah…." He bit his lip and looked down. "I…" History lessons from years ago sprung to mind, of how the trolls had sprawled across the entirety of Arendelle once, clustering around places of power, be they woods filled with magic or heavy stones that had been placed there by the giants that roamed the wilds even millennia before. Their influence and territory had shrunk with the appearance of men wielding iron at the end of long sticks, giving up the magic places one by one until they had but that one spot for their own. And yet, since they had had no human mark their land they of course had had no human proof of ownership. It was a concept both foreign and disgusting to them, besides.

"I'm afraid that I don't," he offered. "Though my family has lived there for yea-"

Those beautiful eyebrows rose together, and he could have sworn he saw a glint of amusement in the depths of her eyes. "You have no proof of your ownership of this land?"

"…no," he admitted, cringing inwardly. And he couldn't offer to bring someone to come examine the land, either; finicky creatures that they were, the trolls might decide that the messenger deserved to be locked inside a tree for a decade or two so he didn't stink of the city and humanflesh when he set foot in their home.

She leaned forward almost imperceptibly, but he could feel a line of cold advancing and quickly glanced down at her hands as they clutched the armrests. The fingertips were tinged blue; a bad sign, as he'd been told. He heard someone sigh but could not look away, the queen's gaze too intense.

"Allow us to sum this up for you," she said, in a voice that indicated she was doing him the only favor he deserved. "You have requested an opportunity to waste our time, to beg us to stop the forward progress of a company that will employ many and produce goods to be sold, and yet you come here with absolutely no proof that you own the land?"

His tongue would not work, and he stared helplessly at her. Once more, her expression changed from a neutral position, but this time it was not amusement lighting up her eyes, but anger. She leaned forward even more, a hawk examining a downed seagull, and sneered at him. "Your boldness would serve you well in any other venture, boy, but not here." She leaned back, her shoulders sinking into the plush cushion of the throne. "Bring forward the next person," she said, motioning towards the guard.

"But-!" He hadn't even had time to plead his case. Not even a full minute had passed, and already her gaze was moving past him, to the next person in line, already the guard at his elbow was coughing expectantly, already his long trek to the palace, his long wait, his scrounging up enough money to buy a new outfit; all of it for nothing?

It didn't matter if he didn't think it'd work. He'd have to try. He only had one shot.

He dipped one hand into his pocket, into the small bag placed there, and withdrew his hand, shooting forward as he rose. "Please, your Majesty, I beg you!" He said, wrapping his fingers around her slim wrist. The dust on his fingertips, invisible thanks to Grandpabbie's charms, coated her palm when she pulled away, her beautiful face twisting into a snarl of contempt at being touched by a commoner. "If you would just listen to-" He was immediately grabbed by two guards, his arms yanked behind him as he was forced to kneel once more, one of them reaching for something inside his coat.

"How dare you," she gasped, as though he'd assaulted her. Truth be told, he had, but not through normal means. If Grandpabbie's claims were to be believed, when next she brought her hand to her lips and consumed even the barest mote of the dust, her mind would be changed. He'd have to see it to believe it, but given the circumstances, he wasn't going to be seeing much right now.

He grunted and tried to struggle when one of the queen's men shoved his knee into the small of Kristoff's back, sending him to the floor, where he was pinned, his cheek smashed against that previously soft carpet, staring at the queen's shoes. The press of something cold between his shoulderblades made him stiffen and lie still.

"Wait!"

His gaze shot over to the side, where the tapping feet were now standing and coming over to the throne.

"Oh, Helena, please, he didn't do anything wrong, don't hurt him," the youngest princess begged. "He's just upset that you're not going to help, see? It's not…he wasn't attacking you."

He could hear the exasperation in her voice when the queen responded, "our person is not to be touched without our permission, and you would do well to remember that lesson, Princess An-"

He twisted his head and snuck a glance upward. The queen was leaning to the side, her twin whispering quickly in her ear, and the queen's countenance was softening from anger to what looked more like exhaustion. She waved her sister aside and Princess Elsa sat back with a sigh.

The queen must have made a signal, because he was suddenly hauled to his feet. With him standing and her sitting, she had to crane her neck to look at him, but she did so with all the grace befitting a woman of rank, and so managed to make it seem as though he was still the lesser.

"Our hospitality extends towards hearing the pleas of our subjects," she said, as though reciting from a script. "It does not extend to granting them, and it most certainly does not extend to forgiving transgressions."

"Don't hurt him, please," the little princess whispered as she tugged on her sister's sleeve. The queen moved her hand aside, and Princess Anna looked down at the ground, upset plastered all over her innocent face. The Princess Elsa was more composed, but he could still see the worry line written clearly between her eyes.

The queen's eyes were cold. "You have overstayed your welcome." She nodded at the guards. "Remove him."

He had one last look at her haughty, pitiless face before the guards spun him around and began marching him out.


	2. Chapter 2

After that Helena declined to hear any more of her subjects' woes. At the announcement the crowd grew to murmuring, some of them cursing the man who had been the cause of the queen's ill temper, but they filed out obediently, as they ought to, and she could retire in peace.

She drew the crown from her forehead and placed it on its pillow, where it rested beneath a glass covering when not in use, and turned toward the door at a noise. Elsa was slipping inside the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. Elsa did everything quietly, whether it was running through the halls on silent feet when they were children or reading together in the library as Mother stroked Elsa's beautiful blonde hair when she had leaned against her large belly, filled with the promise of a new brother or sister, one whom Helena could love just as much as she did Elsa.

Then, that is.

"Usually you allow them at least another hour or two before you leave," Elsa said as she drew her hands together, watching her.

"Usually, yes," Helena admitted. She saw no point in not telling the truth when it was obvious. Like most twins, she had little to hide from her sister because there was little she _could_ hide; they were each experts at reading one another's tells and signs. What seemed like covert glances to an outsider could be a whole conversation between them.

Elsa's eyes drew over her face, and they softened. "Did you want me to listen to some for a while? Or take your place in the afternoon meetings?"

Helena considered this. Elsa, though not as prone to confrontation as her sister, was nonetheless excellent at taking notes, and she, too, had been born and bred in the castle, so her knowledge of their kingdom was impeccable. It had led to more than one occasion where Helena had consulted her twin's advice before making a decision; where she might have employed a measure that was more brash and unforgiving than was wise, Elsa preferred a gentler, more even-handed approach, and her caution had seeped its way into the changes Helena had instituted following her coronation. It wasn't entirely true to say that the pair of them ruled together, but nor was it false, either.

Helena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, to the audience, I mean," she said, gesturing absently. A princess had neither the power nor the weight of a queen, and to promise one and give the other was to engage in trickery that her subjects did not deserve. It also gave them the impression that each sister was interchangeable with the other, which lessened her position, something she would prefer not to do.

She was, however, quite tempted to ask Elsa to be her representative during the afternoon meetings. Baron Royse was bound to be there with his usual lackeys who would whine on cue whenever she brought up the subject of tax increases on his businesses to raise money for the Navy's ships that were damaged in a recent storm. Never mind that those same ships were the ones that accompanied his merchant vessels and protected them from harm so that they could line his pockets with the money his tons of spices brought him; no, so long as there was money leaving his coffers the man was about as generous as a child who ran off with all the toys he could carry. They had butted heads several times, or rather, Royse had made some quiet remarks about how he couldn't be sure that his business would survive in Arendelle for much longer, Helena had supplied several reasons for why this was complete folly that he had ignored, and Elsa had caught her hours later summoning ice plates to throw at the wall.

"It might do you some good to rest," Elsa continued, and Helena found herself nodding, accepting the hand on her back without comment. Her sister's touch was soothing as she rubbed at the knot that was forming at the base of her neck, and Helena dropped her head back, her eyes slipping closed.

"I can tell you haven't been getting enough sleep." Helena turned her head away. Others might see the imperial mask that she wore; Elsa knew to look beyond those judging eyes to the faint smudges of makeup applied underneath them.

"It's just the winter; you know how it is," she said. It used to be that both of them would toss and turn at night whenever the winter months arrived. Mother thought it was more that there never was enough sunlight during those dark months, and so filled the halls with lamps to counteract the dark shadows. Father thought it was because they longed for the smells of summer and so stuffed their room with flowers that bloomed even in the depths of winter.

Helena had always believed that it was the ice within their blood that kept them awake, whispering in the dark, entreating them to leave their parents behind and become one with the cold.

It was harder to struggle against the pull, now that she was alone.

She glanced to the side as Elsa tilted her head, her braid sliding over her shoulder. She glared at it, that constant reminder. It was a dark, rich color that her ladies at waiting admired for its shine and volume as they crowed over the princess, how she so took after the late queen, with her wonderful hair. To Helena it just looked dead.

She made a noise of disgust and pulled away. "Did you have something important to say, Elsa? Or were you going to dance around the point until I let my guard down?"

She could tell Elsa was concealing her disappointment and hurt but didn't care. The other woman folded her arms and took a deep breath, leveling her with a firm gaze. "You were unnecessarily cruel to that man. And don't try and tell me that you were merciful in letting him leave; we both know what a removal by the guards is like."

"Taking a fancy to him?" Helena said over her shoulder.

"Try not to be flippant about it," Elsa retorted without batting an eye. She was impervious on that front, and had always looked down on Helena for being open about her own conquests. At least one of them had to enjoy themselves. "You reacted badly."

"Ah. I see." Helena made a sound that was almost like laughter if you took away the joy. She smiled with both sides of her mouth, so that Elsa would know it wasn't real. "Concerns for my health, hoping to step in? I see how it is."

Elsa closed her eyes briefly and held herself a little tighter. "And just how is it?"

"Could you at least be honest with me?" she pleaded. "Is that too much for me to ask from you? Honesty?" Helena spread her hands, as if to beg, or demand; which, she couldn't be sure. "You always do this, Elsa. You never just tell me what the problem is. I always have to figure it out."

Elsa waited silently.

"You don't think I'm doing this right," she concluded. "You don't think I'm good enough. Not compared to them." She didn't voice the final concern, that she didn't have the heart to rule, the one thing that her tutors and father could not teach her. Her skill with figures, knowledge of important people and their ever changing relationships, and her tendency to foresee problems before they arose had but one equal, but that equal always had the one thing she lacked. And when Helena became aware of something that she needed, it burned like iron against her skin.

"No, I…" Elsa sighed, copying Helena's earlier motion as her fingertips massaged her forehead. "That's not what I think at all. I just think that you had a bad reaction to an unpleasant surprise, all right? Can you see that?" Her voice had moved from tired to pleading. It was a direction that she had followed too often recently, and if Helena was being honest with herself it was probably justified.

Whatever Helena was going to say in return was interrupted by the polite knock at the door. The queen's gaze flashed to the ceiling as she growled beneath her breath. Of course. Elsa had been away from her puppydog for five minutes, so of course she'd come begging at the door.

"Elsa?" Anna called. "Helena? May I come in?"

Elsa lifted her eyebrows at her sister, silently asking her if they were finished, and Helena sighed and nodded at the door, smoothing a thumb over her lips. Elsa strode over to the thick wood and pulled it open to reveal their younger sister, her hair in her childish pigtails, carrying a set of books against her chest. Her smile at the sight of Elsa was genuine and full of warmth in a way that made Helena's chest ache, especially when it was returned in kind.

"Um, I thought since we're done with seeing people today, you could help me with this report…? You promised," she added quickly, searching Elsa's face for any hint of refusal, but the older woman was quite happy to accept, as she always was. Anna's eyes met her other sister's over Elsa's shoulder, and for a brief moment she held that bright smile. It faded in response to Helena's cold look until it disappeared completely as Elsa guided her with gentle hands out of the room, her dark hair the last glimpse of color before she shut the door, leaving Helena alone to herself.

She sat down on the bed, making a sharp gesture with her hand, and a glass of chilled water appeared. She caught it and sipped lightly at it as she thought. Without knowing why, she found her thoughts returning to that man, the one who had grabbed for her like some sort of lifeline. Completely unprepared to see her, fumbling over his words, staring at her like she was some sort of esoteric statue…

She took another sip and set the glass down, frowning into space. There was something niggling at the back of her mind, like the sound of a whisper from beneath a closed door. Something about the man was bothering her. It hadn't been his pleading; she had heard plenty of that already. It couldn't have been his predicament; everyone had their own woes. It couldn't be his station; she was used to being exposed to the lower classes.

There was something about his clothing that bothered her. Not that it was clearly purchased for that occasion and definitely second-hand from the way it didn't fit his built figure well, not that it was a commoner's mismatched attempt at class, but…

He had been wearing a necklace, she realized. A crystal necklace.

For a moment she sat up, almost starting at the realization, but in that instant a bone-deep weariness settled over her with such rapidity she lost her breath. The room grew blurry, and she slumped down on the bed, too tired to be concerned by the sudden shift. Her last thought before she closed her eyes was that she hoped Elsa would think to wake her before her meetings. She would hate to be irresponsible.

* * *

Kristoff limped towards the stables.

They hadn't roughed him up too badly. Just a few hard punches to the gut and one to the lip, stomped on his foot; the usual. He'd had worse, and while he would probably be peeing blood for a week it wasn't like he had eyes too swollen to see through.

He had hoped the dust would take effect soon, but there had been no sign whatsoever the magic had taken hold. If it was magic at all. His family, for all he loved them, had made him the butt of jokes one time too many for him to fully trust them. One time Bulda had spent an entire day convincing him that rubbing the juice of red berries over his skin while she chanted would make him immune to the cold. He had been a bluish purple for a week and the mere sight of him sent his family into fits of laughter. And then there was the time they'd stolen the runners to his sleigh. Or when he'd woken up one day to find his stache of carrots nailed to every tree around him.

Trolls just couldn't help being trolls, it seemed.

Still, Grandpabbie had always been sincere. He'd have to see tomorrow if the queen would agree to another audience. Assuming the guards would let him into the main hall again, of course.

He grinned at the sight of the stables and winced as his cut lip opened up again. He dabbed at the blood with one finger and smeared it on his pants, licking away the rest of the blood as Sven reared his head, letting out a soft bleat of welcome.

"Hey buddy," he muttered as he stepped into the reindeer's stall. Sven gave him a cursory sniff, rubbing his nose over his chest and stomach and, satisfied that all of his friend's parts were in the right location, tilted his head back and snorted, glancing between Kristoff's palm and his face. "No, sorry, I don't have any-"

Kristoff gasped, gripping the railing of the stall as all the energy rushed out of him in one breath. One minute he had been injured, but generally fine; the next he was struggling to remain upright as his knees weakened. Sven made a concerned noise and nosed him to the ground, guiding his dazed human to the soft straw in the corner. He moaned at Kristoff, who was blinking stupidly, his head lolling, and Sven jerked his head up, looking at the sun as it sat a few handspans above the horizon. Just barely reaching noon, and already Kristoff was settling in to sleep. That hardly seemed fair: the man always gave him a hard time if he decided it was time to sleep before the sun went down.

But Kristoff was too tired to care about the increasingly grumpy reindeer in front of him. Already he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and the straw beneath him was changing from a scratchy bed to the softest of clouds. He leaned back and breathed out slowly, closing his eyes. His last thought before he slept was that he hoped this bout wasn't just some silly game. He would hate for that to be it.


	3. Chapter 3

Helena awoke from the deepest, most satisfying sleep she'd ever had to the smell of straw, horse, and a unique smell she'd never known before.

She stretched, humming with pleasure as her muscles thrummed with promise. She pressed herself into the straw, threading her fingers through her hair and sighing. It felt astounding. Usually she woke up to a headache and a scratchy throat, with an ache that settled over her joints, but now she felt wonderful in a perfectly lazy way. She smiled, her eyes still closed, as she soaked in the plethora of scents around her, the warmth that surrounded her, the snorts of the horses that mixed with the twitter of birds as they heralded the morning.

She frowned. Birds. Straw. Horses. What?

She opened her eyes when something snorted at her. Hovering right in front of her was a reindeer. If she didn't know better she might have thought it looked concerned. Not it, he: he sported a pair of elegantly carved antlers.

She blinked rapidly and the reindeer copied her, tilting his head as his nostrils bulged when he scented her. His large antlers swung side to side as he ran his nose over her body and she flinched away. "What? Get off me," she said, pushing him away. Her voice was scratchy and low from sleep.

She looked around at her surroundings. She was at the bottom of a stable stall, with an intrigued reindeer watching her every move, and the angle of the faint light that shot through the cracks in the wood indicated that it was early morning. She stared at the wood paneling, stunned, not pushing the reindeer away when he began rooting through her hair and whining. She had never sleepwalked before, and surely someone would have stopped her before she got to this point, anyways, so how had she arrived here?

And it was so early in the morning, too, which meant she had slept for well over sixteen hours. How could Elsa have let her miss her meetings? Unless…

Helena cursed inwardly, drawing her fingers through her hair. Of course. Elsa had taken her earlier silence on the subject as acceptance and probably left her to sleep there. She knew her too well.

But the solving of this mystery didn't change the fact that she had somehow wound up in a stable stall, of all places, with absolutely no sign that anyone had even noticed. And with a reindeer, too.

She slowly sat up, frowning more severely, and grew confused when she tasted blood. She touched her lips with one hand and looked down at her fingertips.

And started.

Her hand was not her own. HER hand was slim, with long, thin fingers, delicate joints and well-manicured nails. THIS hand had a broad, meaty palm, with thick calluses covering the base of the fingers and fingertips. The muscle that moved the thumb was quite well developed, and when she flipped the hand over she stared at the heavy knuckles dusted with hair. It may have been blonde, but it was a darker blonde than her own.

She examined the hand for a time, flipping it this way and that, and then her eyes drew slowly upward, and she realized that she was clothed. She always slept naked, so the sight of the woolen sleeve was just as out of place as the hand she was looking at. Ignoring the reindeer, who kept knocking his nose against her shoulder, she began to push the sleeve back.

Instead of thin wrists that displayed a network of pale blue veins beneath skin as white as marble, she was faced with a thick forearm covered in the same blonde hair, but longer this time. She watched, almost in awe, as she wiggled the fingers of that strange hand and the muscles swelled beneath the skin, bulging and rolling in time to her movements. She made a fist and the forearm flexed; she released it and it grew slack again.

It was at this point that she became aware of two things. One was that she was breathing hard enough to hear it rushing in her ears, and the second was that there was a rising sense that there was something hideously, awfully wrong happening. She flipped the hand over and over again, as if expecting it to suddenly revert to the right shape and size, but it remained resolutely large, rough, and distinctively…

…masculine.

She straightened with a gasp and looked down at herself. Huge feet encased in large boots, long, heavy legs covered in cheap, worn woolen pants (pants! She couldn't be seen wearing pants!) thick thighs that were comprised of corded muscle, so much larger than her own, and a chest that-

Her breasts were gone.

Her breasts were GONE.

She let out a cry and clapped the hands to her chest, finding nothing there but the softness of wool and something hard beneath it. Panicking, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, heedless of who would see, intent on one thing.

She stared at herself in horror.

Gone were her beautiful breasts and her luscious curves. Instead, she was faced with a barrel of a chest with large, square pectorals stretched across it that jumped with every movement of her now bare arms. Her flat stomach was no more, replaced with a series of abdominal muscles just barely visible beneath the rest of the excess flesh covering her suddenly much larger, heavier body. She gaped at her chest, watching as the flat planes rose and fell with her increasingly erratic breaths, and nearly choked at the newest terror: HAIR. There was HAIR on her CHEST. Right between where her breasts had been! It lay there, innocent as a fly, trickling down from the chest to the stomach and beyond to the…

To the bulge in her pants.

That…that couldn't be. There…there wasn't…

She stared, a dreaded explanation slowly rising to the surface of her mind, boiling to the top and bursting into a terrifying realization that left her dumbstruck.

Sven nudged Kristoff, whining. When was he going to move already? The sun was up, the birds were singing, and he was awake, so why was he not getting up? He hadn't even moved for a long time, just stared down at himself. Didn't he know it was time to get up? Sven wanted to run; while he was enjoying the food immensely, the stall was cramped with Kristoff in it, too, especially since he wouldn't get up when Sven tried to get him to move. What was the matter with him?

Helena swallowed. Her skin was trembling a little in the cold as she brought the hands down to the pants and, hesitating a moment, drew them down and looked.

"…oh my God," she said.

She yanked the pants up hurriedly and stood, almost tripping over herself. Herself. Herself! How could she even say that when she had seen quite clear evidence of her own manhood? LITERALLY! No element of her body was still her own, her womanhood banished to the same place where the rest of her sanity had gone, she was trapped in a stall with a pushy reindeer with a body surrounding her that had absolutely no relation to her own and-

Helena slapped herself across the face. It stung her palm; evidently she had stubble. The thought made her begin to laugh hysterically, the exact opposite of the reaction she had been hoping for, and the laughter continued for an absurd amount of time before it transitioned into tears that trickled down her scruffy cheeks.

"Oh my God," she wailed, in a voice she now knew to be that of a man's, tugging at her hair. "What…what did I do? What did I do wrong? Why…why?" The reindeer, almost forgotten in her little tantrum, bleated softly and nose her side. "Oh get out!" She screamed, shoving at the animal, which growled and huffed in response before clomping over to the side of the stall, glaring at her. "You…you useless animal! Just leave me alone!" She slumped down against the panels and buried her head in those large, strange hands, shaking.

She panted, the wood harsh against the bare skin of her back. What was she going to do? What had happened to her? She wracked her brain for an answer, her short nails clawing into her scalp as she thought.

If this was a dream it was so incredibly realistic it was indistinguishable from the waking world, anyways. If this were the result of some strange magic then she hadn't a clue where it had come from. She hadn't been on the throne long enough to earn herself any magical enemies, and for that matter she wasn't even aware of anyone with magic, besides herself. There had been another, once, but that was a long time ago.

As for her own powers, they…

A chill ran over her body, and she slowly dropped the hands. Hardly daring to breathe, she turned the hands over, and concentrated.

Nothing came. Not a single snowflake.

"I told you there was someone in here."

She gasped and looked up. Two stable hands were leaning over the railing, looking her up and down. She shrieked and clapped her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at them. "How dare you!" she snarled, incensed that they would be ogling her so obviously. The bigger one who had a scruffy handlebar mustache and a thick wattle of fat hanging from his chin was smirking as he eyed her cheek and chest. The other one was thin and reedy with a large nose that made his laughter into ugly honking noises. It took her several seconds to realize what they were laughing at: without a bosom, there was no point in covering her chest. She let her hands fall to her sides, even though it made her skin crawl with shame there was nothing to be ashamed of. The thought made her chest ache.

The mustached one kept laughing, and the other followed his partner. "What's the matter, prettyboy," he said, unlatching the stall door and stepping forward, "get in a fight with your boyfriend?" His ugly little smile was growing darker by the second as he and his partner entered the stall. "Did he rough you up, or are you the kind of slut who likes it like that?"

She shot to her feet, clenching those hands into powerful fists and planting them on her hips. "How dare you speak to me like that! I am a queen, you, you…you filthy little peasant. I demand you apologize for your insolence at once." She looked down her nose at them, shoulders back and chest held high.

What would have brought them to their knees in sincere apology only served to make them laugh harder, and she balked at the sight of them, commoners well beneath her station, laughing so hard they had tears running down their cheeks.

"A queen!" The mustached man gasped, swiping at the tears on his ruddy cheeks. "Oh fuck, he even admits it. God I bet you love a good hard cock up your ass." She sucked in a shocked breath, aghast when he leered at her. "Look at you, half naked already." He sounded hungry in a way that had Helena leaning against the wall, eyes widening as he stepped closer.

"Guards!" She called, eyes darting between him and the exit. "Guards!"

No one came. A few horses raised their heads, chewing on their feed, before dropping them again. There wasn't a soul in the place but them, and they grinned at her when she realized this. No one was coming.

"You think they'd come running for a nobody like you?" he said, as her stomach plummeted. "No. It's just you and me, prettyboy." His eyes were dark and dangerous. "No one to interrupt us." He moved forward, his partner by his side." And you like that, don't you?"

"No, no, I'm…I'm not…" she began, chest heaving in panic as they caged her in. Her powers were gone, they didn't recognize her authority, there were no guards to call, and they were large and imposing…

Wait. She stopped as she thought of something. Neither of them were bigger than her at all. In fact, pound for pound, she was clearly the stronger of the three, considering one of them looked like a short man stretched on a rack for several hours and the other looked like he'd been consuming far too many pies.

She brought those fists up, sneering at the fatter one. "If you're looking for a fight, I'll give you one, you vile little-"

He brought her to her knees with one blow.

She collapsed to the ground, choking at the pain that flared in her stomach, a mix of dull ache fanned to a roaring flame that spasmed and sent waves of nausea shooting up her body. It was the most intense pain she'd ever felt before, and she lay powerless and defenseless beneath its onslaught.

"Fucking faggots never know how to fight," he said above her as she gasped, sides screaming as she tried to breathe as shallowly as possible. She shuddered as he grabbed her arm, knowing now that she truly had no means of escape.

"Now, you gonna be a good boy and take it, or am I going to have to teach you another lesson, boy?"

Boy. She'd called someone a boy before.

She spat at him, missing due to the tears in her eyes, and he laughed and patted her cheek. "That's right. You just lay right there an-AAAAGHH!"

She jerked her head as something shot past her vision in a blur of tan and white. The reindeer, who had been forgotten in the proceedings, had taken this time to ram her attacker into the wall. The man slumped over, dead to the world, as the animal situated himself above her, whirling on the second man.

He threw his hands in the air. "No, no don't! I didn't do anything!" Too late.

The reindeer reared back on his hind legs and slammed his hooves into the man's chest, sending him into the stall door across the hall. The noise startled the horse inside, who began to whinny in confusion and fright. The sound was quickly picked up by the rest of the herd, accompanied by the lower calls of the oxen and the shrill noises of the donkeys, until there was a whole symphony of animal cries.

The reindeer heaved out a breath and turned back to her. "Good boy," she gasped, and he made a noise of contentment when she tentatively patted his nose.

"What the hell is going on in here?" came a voice and the sound of many clomping boots. Helena took stock of the situation: two dazed, but quickly recovering and soon to be enraged stable hands, her lack of powers, and a whole group of men who would surely take their side and not hers.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered to the reindeer, who agreed with a toss of the head. Without waiting for her, he grabbed her shoulder in his teeth and tugged her to her feet, shoving his side against her expectantly. Stopping only to grab the shirt, she leapt onto his back. She barely had time to grab on to the harness on his back before he was bolting forward, flying past the startled men bearing shovels and pitchforks, out the door and into the courtyard amidst their shouts to stop.

"Go, boy, go!" The reindeer wasted no time, dashing out the open gates and into the town, Helena clinging desperately to his back as he ran through the streets, each bound taking her further and further from the castle and the danger within, her strange new body crying out in pain and her mind in confusion as they left the city behind.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Anna groaned when Elsa flung open the curtains, letting in the morning light. Not just the morning light. All the light in the entire world, directed right at her poor eyes. "No," she whined, and pulled the covers over her head. "No no no no. No," she added, for emphasis.

She continued to whimper with a blanket covering her face while Elsa chuckled and walked over. "Early to bed, early to rise…you know how it goes. Up you go, come on," her older sister said, tugging at an arm that she had left outside the covers, defenseless. Anna curled it in towards her chest but Elsa leaned back and put her weight behind it, so that the princess was dragged upright against her will. She made a face that should have inspired pity but only made Elsa laugh and kiss her on the nose. "Oh come now, you told me yourself you wanted to be more involved in governing the nation. Unfortunately for you," she said brightly, "that governance starts in the morning hours. So get up."

"No," Anna mumbled, and flopped back to the mattress as soon as Elsa let go. She cracked open her eyes to see Elsa with her eyes folded and large blue eyes filled with mirth. Anna threw her hands over her eyes. "You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope," Elsa said, her voice far too cheery considering it was roughly death o'clock. "So, are you going to get up?" Her tone suggested there would be more harassment to follow if Anna didn't answer correctly.

"Mmmm." Anna considered her options carefully. On the one hand, she could get up and be spared the poking and prodding of a far more responsible older sister, but that was impossible, so she discounted it immediately. On the other hand, she could remain wrapped up in warm blankets, cocooned in comfort so long as she made sure to ignore the constant complaints and whines. Neither option seemed very enjoyable. Unless there was a third one…

She peeked out of one eye with a sneaky little grin. "Okay, I'll get up, BUT on one condition…"

"If you think I'm going to serenade you, dear Anna, you are in for an unpleasant surprise," Elsa responded, lifting one eyebrow. Too bad. She had a lovely voice, and even if Anna's own was too young and light in comparison to Elsa's stunning power, their duets during Anna's music lessons had been tolerated by her tutors only because they were so sweet.

"I'll get up if you ask Helena if we can have breakfast together," Anna said in a rush, watching as Elsa bit her lip and looked away.

"Just ask…?" They both knew their sister, who prided herself upon her position, would have risen earlier and was probably already nibbling at a tray of finger food while she pored over papers, a small pair of glasses affixed to the end of her nose. Anna had stolen them once and demanded the three of them go on a picnic together or she'd never give them back. Helena had frozen and therefore ruined her entire wardrobe in retaliation, and Anna had been forced to return them while Elsa ground her teeth before extracting an insincere apology from her twin.

"I guess." It wasn't like Elsa was likely to receive a yes, but if Helena were sufficiently distracted she sometimes agreed to things she would usually not.

Elsa was striding out of the room. She stopped at the door, laying a hand on it, turning her head. "And when she says no, what would you like for breakfast?"

Anna shrugged. "Anything as long as it's not fish."

"And you call yourself a child of Arendelle," Elsa muttered as she left. Anna grinned and tugged the covers tightly around her, snuggling into her pillow. She had at least five more minutes now.

* * *

Elsa knocked on the door as she opened it. "Helena, I was wondering if…"

She blinked and looked around. The curtains had been drawn, the fire had been stoked and banked, a sheaf of fresh papers had been placed upon her desk, and Helena was nowhere to be seen.

Elsa glanced at her desk. Gerda had set up the usual arrangement on a side table, with a steaming coffee pot, short pitcher of cream, small dish of sugar, and an empty mug with a spoon laid to the side. There was a plate with a single piece of toast with cloudberry jam spread across it. The coffee was beginning to cool; she could tell by how the steam was wispier than it should have been. Years ago she would not have needed to look to know.

Perhaps she'd stepped out to use the washroom? As a creature of habit, Helena coveted schedules and strongly preferred to follow them come Hell or high water, though with enough gentle prodding on her part Elsa could unfix her claws from some time slot or other, as she hoped was the case today. Helena often reacted to these impositions on her time poorly, as though she had been unfairly manipulated, even though Elsa knew better, and as a result maintained even greater control immediately following. Still, the queen was only human, and as her refusal to awaken from her impromptu nap yesterday had proven, she did stray from time to time. So whereas she usually preferred to be dressed and ready by the time the old maid had begun setting up her things for the day, it wasn't unheard of her to be off kilter at points.

With this in mind, Elsa strode over to the desk and smoothed a hand over the papers that had been placed there. Here was a request for increased funding to the road commission to repave one of the entrances to the city; here was a rewording of a law on succession that had some lawyer's notes scribbled in the side along with a whole set of extra notes at the end, detailing any and all loopholes and misinterpretations that could arise should the law be enacted; here was a report from one of the remote, northern villages about a recent spate of attacks from the recent influx of Kven peoples that made their homes on islands previously thought inhospitable.

Elsa raised her eyebrows as she lifted the papers, skimming over the report quickly; though she and her sister had been aware of the concerns of the villagers for some time now, neither had believed the conflict between the cultures would erupt into violence. Helena herself had said that she had little concern for the superstitions of peasants; initially, that is. The repetitive nature of the reports had begun to tax the queen, and Elsa had had to really put her foot down when she argued fiercely against sending soldiers to the province. Elsa gnawed at her lip as she gave the report another read, grimacing as she read about homes that had been torched and left to burn. No casualties, not yet, but Arendelle was still in the grip of winter, and those who had lost their homes would begin to feel its chill soon, if they hadn't already.

Perhaps Helena's suggestion of a military presence had not been unwise. Elsa sighed as she pulled down a book on maps from the shelves to the right of the desk, settling down with the report in one hand and the map in the other, intent on familiarizing herself with the region, as some of the descriptions had been confusing to her.

Five minutes in it occurred to her that she should have Anna reading the reports and giving her opinions of them. The girl's knowledge of geography could always use some practice, as could her understanding of how to use, and not abuse, royal attention. But since Elsa had agreed to return only after having spoken to their sister, she shrugged and continued reading.

Ten minutes in, and the coffee was no longer steaming, but Elsa was beginning to grow irritated. Not that no one had come by; the queen preferred her servants neither seen nor heard; but that there was no indication that Helena herself was coming at all, which was a deviation from her schedule so profound Elsa found it difficult to imagine.

She set the papers and book to the side and stood. She wasn't going to wait any longer.

Not a minute later Elsa was knocking on Helena's chamber door. "Helena," she called. "It's your sister," she added unnecessarily, but she had received no reply. If Helena was just waking up now, then there was definitely more than just normal variation.

She waited, holding herself back from tapping her foot only because it made her seem like a child, and stared at the large door in growing confusion. For a moment she forgot her exasperation and just stared at the door, eyes moving over the entirely white surface. The grooves where the blue painted snowflakes had been remained, for even Helena could not quite part with their, or her, door, but the glossy coat of white obscured the cuts well enough so that only a trained observer could notice that it was not actually smooth.

She knocked again. "Helena, do I need to come in?" This time she was uncertain, unsure. It was Anna who had been the sickly child, for reasons that made her throat tighten still, not Helena or Elsa herself. The former was almost entirely immune to colds and sniffles while the latter took after her sister.

Although, there had been that bout with a fever that had frightened their parents so…

She rapped hard against the wood, loud enough that it fairly echoed down the hall. "Helena, please open the door, I need to talk to you." She didn't say that it was because she was concerned, but her intentions were obvious.

"…I can't," Helena's voice fairly tiptoed through the wood separating them. It sounded small, so unlike her twin that Elsa was taken aback. It took her a second to realize what she'd said.

"You…you can't?" Elsa repeated, placing a hand on the wood. "Helena, what's wrong?" She dropped her hand to the knob, wincing at how cold it was. Her stomach dropped in anticipation; she had a bad feeling she knew where this was going.

"May I come in?" she asked quietly, and waited.

"If you can…" Helena said, so defeated and tired that Elsa was reminded of just how alike they were. She shoved the thought aside, gripped the handle despite the chill, and tugged hard, the hinges whining and the door swinging open with great difficulty.

She gasped at what she saw.


	5. Chapter 5

Ice.

Everywhere.

The rug was nearly invisible, only the barest hint of color through the knee-deep layer of ice that had exploded outward with such ferocity it had actually imbedded itself in the walls before climbing them, covering and distorting the paintings, their frames bent past the breaking point but frozen over before they could fall. The drapes, which Helena always left open, had merged with the wall behind them, frozen into the shape of looming, disapproving figures that towered above.

The only distinction between tables and chairs came in the general shape and size, as both were locked in icy chains that dripped down in thick, weeping tears that merged with the icy carpet, viscous liquid poured onto a dirty counter. The couch, which had been pointed at the fireplace, was now flipped over on its face as though it had received the full force of the blow, encased in ice and lying broken and hollow where it had been buried.

The fireplace had been devastated. The bricks were shot through with ice and had shattered into hundreds of pieces, held together only by the same ice that had attacked them. The opening lay in shambles, one edge of a log poking out from the mess as though mocking the whole affair for it, too, was completely unsalvageable, riddled with ice to the point where the honey brown had taken on the color of the ice; a pale blue that was more the absence of color and light than it was a hue itself.

From the ceiling hung enormous icicles, some so thick and long that they nearly merged with the icicles that sprouted from the floor. They gave off ghostly, murky reflections that were warped and twisted in the irregularity of their shape. The faint light that managed to seep through the frost covered glass was picked up in the surrounding ice, making it glisten, even though the air itself seemed dark and dull. Flakes of ice drifted in the air, small flashes of light within the gasping darkness, floating like motes of dust in between the huge icicles.

The four post bed had become two, as the posts closest to the fireplace had snapped in half and thrown outward but stopped halfway through the motion, time halted as the upper halves swung outward and the lower halves reeled, all four pieces completely stationary, doused in ice from their unbroken parts to the wicked splinters that jutted out like the teeth of a snarling beast.

The whole effect lent one to believe they were entering a subterranean cave filled with crystals of unspeakable quantity, yet the traveler was not welcome in this pit of frost. The ice glittered and gleamed with the trace and blood of magic and filled Elsa's nose and head with the scent of cold. It tugged at her, made her skin itch, and not in a way that she would once have found enjoyable.

It was the second most devastating application of magic Elsa had ever seen in her life.

In the center of it all atop the bed, contained within a small point like the eye of a hurricane, sat Helena. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, which were tangled up what little part of her blankets remained unfrozen, and her chin was set on her knees, her eyes staring into space, into the dense forest of icicles and magic she had produced. It looked almost like she was looking past all of it, her mind shifted inward while her gaze turned outward, her expression broken, like a paper cut neatly in two, into a look that was simultaneously one of awe and terror, as though she was transfixed by what she'd done.

Though surrounded by her own power, she was utterly lost.

Elsa took in a shuddering breath. Her exhale emerged like mist that stole what little heat remained in her chest away, making her shiver. She couldn't stand the cold. Its pain was too familiar to her.

"Helena…?" she said, watching her sister carefully.

Helena didn't move.

She called again, raising her voice: "Helena, listen to me!" Her words battled against the press of the cold, heavy and relentless against her lips and nose, burning down her throat whenever she breathed. The air felt oppressive, as though it resisted movement, craving the stillness.

Helena raised her head, turned it, and looked right at her. For a moment Elsa believed that she was not looking at her sister, but merely a poor imitation of her, a ghost that had donned her sister's skin. Then Helena's lips trembled and Elsa was weaving her way through the icicles to get to her, the ice crunching underneath her shoes as she scrambled over the sharp and irregular patches, stumbling over the swirls and eddies, waves captured and made into weapons that caught at her feet and her dress in her frantic dash towards the bed.

She reached Helena's side and, without pausing for a moment, laid a hand on her twin's shoulder.

Helena flinched, a full body tremor that rattled up through her tense, hunched form and into Elsa's bones. Elsa gritted her teeth but hung on.

"Helena," she said, and her sister lifted her eyes up to her. Elsa gave her a tight but warm smile, it smoothing away like the last ripples on a pond when Helena stared right through her. She swallowed and tried once more. "Helena, are you all right?"

The "…now?" was left unsaid.

Helena's eyes slowly focused on her. "I…I was afraid," she said. "I was afraid, and…" She slowly looked around, like a child looking for her mother but finding herself alone, and Elsa's hand tightened on her shoulder. Helena looked back at her, her face so open and full of raw emotion that Elsa hardly recognized her, only now realizing how well the mask of royal disdain had adhered to her face, now that it was gone.

"…and it came." She gasped; a swift, jerky movement. "I was afraid, and it…it came, it just came out of me, and I couldn't stop it, I just kept getting more and more afraid, and it appeared, and I thought it would be beautiful and incredible but it wasn't, it was terrifying, because I couldn't do anything to stop, and it got worse and worse and I could feel it go but, but, it-" She stopped, panting, the only sign of her breath the harsh noise of air as it slammed in and out of her at a rapid clip.

Elsa's fingertips were prickling with the cold. "What happened?"

And then, just like that, Helena was back to being herself. Elsa knew by the way a distance born of unfamiliarity grew in her eyes, by the way she turned her gaze away, by the way her shoulders straightened and she said, in a calmer voice, "I don't know, I just woke up like this."

Elsa could tell by the way that she lied.

* * *

Kristoff stared at his covered knees. They weren't his, but if he lingered on that thought too long then his palms would start to itch, then ache, and the bones of his arms would threaten to shatter as the power radiated up them before it came shooting out his fingertips. His thin, delicate fingertips, so seemingly disarming and yet so astonishingly dangerous.

He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the things that he did know, the things that he could count on.

One, he knew where he was. He had managed a glance out the window before his sleep-drugged mind had caught up with the strange sensations of his body, and had seen the fjord from a high angle, so he could conclude that he was in the palace. The décor was also far too nice for servant's quarters, and there were enough personal touches here and there for it to have been a specific person's room and not just a place for a visiting noble.

Two, he knew what time it was. The fire in the pit had been just dying when he'd awoken, and the fresh wooden logs stacked to the side meant that it had been less than a day since their harvest and arrival, so he was missing at most half a day's worth of time. Enough time to have been moved, or so he had thought upon waking, but then a cursory glance at himself had revealed the truth.

Three, he knew "who" he was. No one else had the powers of the ice and snow. No one, save the queen of Arendelle herself.

Himself.

His fingers began to tremble and he gripped his biceps savagely.

Four, that meant…

The princess sighed as she settled beside him, and he shifted away instinctively. He had learned the hard way not to touch the royal person, had learned the hard way not to expect kindness from the upper class, hard learned the hard way that you couldn't trust people as far as you threw them. Or they threw you, depending on what they thought of you.

He looked away, not wanting to get too close, and felt the air leave him in a rush when he felt fingers sink into his hair. He sneaked a peek at her over one shoulder, and was surprised by what he saw. Princess Elsa, known to be the kindest, calmest of the sisters, was frowning in a way that bespoke disappointment, frustration, and yet at the same time a tired acceptance that took the form of gentle stroking, as though she was calming herself as well as him.

For a time neither of them spoke, Kristoff too entranced by the odd situation and the princess offering him no clue beyond her drawn face as to what she was feeling. The petting continued throughout their period of awkward silence and he found his tense muscles relaxing one by one.

A shaky, blurry memory swam up from the depths of his mind, of an older woman with small, warm hands and a bright smile. She brought with her the smell of safety and the lightest kiss against his cheek. The memory vanished when he blinked, and he wondered whether it had been his own or if his presence in the queen's body meant part of her remained.

He gritted his teeth, forcing the breath through his nose. The world looked so different now, and it had taken his bleary mind a while to realize that it was because he was used to there being a thicker bridge right in the middle of his vision. A touch had revealed a short, button nose, as though his had been shoved into his head during his slumber, and increasingly desperate touches brought him even more differences, from slim shoulders, a long, smooth neck, high cheekbones, full lips without the barest hint of stubble, thin, high eyebrows…

And then he'd looked down.

The ensuing freakout had taken on monstrous, physical form, as though his swirling mind sought to banish those chaotic, confused, terrified thoughts into space and they got stuck. This had not been helpful when he tried to calm himself down, especially when he had called for Sven – for what, he wasn't sure – and he had realized that the reindeer, his closest companion, was not with him.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat. Sven could take care of himself; he'd proven as much on multiple occasions, and worst came to worst he could always run off and be free.

He drew his arms closer to his chest, over the lumps there that felt strangely heavy, even grotesque in a way. The princess accommodated his movements without stopping her soothing touch, neither trying to stop him nor leaving. She had dealt with this before, he thought.

The both of them turned their heads at a sharp gasp. In the doorway stood the youngest of the sisters, one of her hands brought over her mouth as she surveyed the damage, her teal eyes big as saucers. She was wearing a nightgown and slippers, and just then Kristoff found that while he could feel Princess Elsa's bodyheat, the surrounding cold had little, if any, effect on him. Instead, there was a strange peacefulness to the cold, to the point where he was unsure if her heat was pleasurable or just something he tolerated.

The littlest princess straightened, biting her lip as she tried and failed to conceal her worry, which was written in broad strokes across her face. She took a breath, stiffened, looked away.

She jerked her head back. "Helena are you okay?" she blurted out, and Kristoff felt Elsa wince beside him. "Is there anything I can do to help-I mean…" Princess Anna looked down again, twisting her hands together. "I could, um…"

"Did you want to come in?" Kristoff asked. The voice that came out of him was high, almost sweet in a way, and he watched, confused, as the princess' eyes went even wider, as she began to smile. It was the weirdest time for her to be doing so, with her white breath whispering between her teeth – she must be freezing – but the expression fit her face so well that it didn't seem so bad at all.

She bounded into the room and up to the bed, plopping down on one side. She let out a small "eep!" and quickly scooched closer, to the section of covers that had escaped the magic's wrath, and situated herself on Kristoff's other side. He found himself sandwiched between the two princesses but, already too emotionally spent from his calamitous awakening, could not bring himself to do much more than blink tiredly.

"Was it a nightmare?" Princess Anna asked. She had raised a hand, letting it hover over his arm, and he unthinkingly shifted so that he was farther away. Her hand fell in time with her eyes.

He considered his options. They were kind to him now, now that they believed him family, but if they knew the truth then there was no telling how they'd react. Especially since he had a terrible feeling that perhaps he was responsible for this. Grandpabbie may have given him the magic to work, but magic was a fickle thing as he had just seen, and perhaps it didn't always go as intended, as Grandpabbie had warned him before he left. It was supposed to be the last resort, a shot in the dark.

Unfortunately, the shot had hit its mark, but he had not known until know just where it was aiming.

"I…you could say that," he admitted. A nightmare upon waking in a body that was too small in so many places, too large in others, weak at times and deliriously strong at others, pliable and delicate and yet immune. It was a series of contradictions that made him long for his own body, which was muscle and sinew and bone, solid and dependable as ice.

Or so he had thought. He eyed the icicles, twisted and curled into shapes that would have been unnatural, that were unnatural.

Princess Elsa made a soft humming noise by his ear. "I thought as much," she muttered, and withdrew her hand. She sounded perfectly sincere in a way that he did not believe for a moment.

Princess Anna shifted closer. "Oh it's okay, you don't have to feel like it's your fault, I mean really, Helena." She snorted, a sound that was so unladylike and out of place that Kristoff found himself smiling at her. She had been the one to defend him, and so fervently too, for the simple reason that he was on his knees and she wasn't, and it made her seem even warmer than she already was. Perhaps she had seen something in his eyes of that nature, because she flashed him a sharp grin and kept going. "Remember what Father used to say? About journeying to the land of dreams…?"

Beside him Princess Elsa chuckled softly. "That was something he told you as a child, not us." But then how had she known, and the queen didn't…?

Princess Anna shrugged in apology. "Right, sorry; I know, I know, baby of the family. So, remember how I used to have terrible nightmares when I was a kid?"

"I…" Kristoff's gaze darted around the room, but thankfully the queen's twin saved him yet again.

"It was quite some time ago, she might not remember, Anna," she said, making Kristoff frown. There was a hint of sadness in her words, but Princess Anna had taken Kristoff's silence to mean she ought to continue.

"Well, he told me that when we're awake, we've got all our senses; some of us more than others," she said with a rueful little chuckle, glancing down at her lap, "but when we're asleep we become dream-things, and we go wherever the wind of our dreams take us. I used to feel guilty about shouting in my sleep, see, but when he told me how it wasn't my fault, it was just me running around the land of dreams, it made it a little better, a little less…ashamed, I guess."

"I'm not ashamed," Kristoff said quickly. "I just need…" What did he need? Besides his body, his clothes, his reindeer, his life, his home, his sanity?

"I just need some…space." His gaze roamed over the evidence of his emotional outburst, and he stiffened at a touch on his arm. Princess Anna almost drew back when he looked at her, but his face softened, and her tentative smile blossomed into a wide one.

"Well, I thought Elsa was going to ask you if we could have breakfast together but…." She raised her eyebrows pointedly. "Maybe we could spend the day together instead? Just the three of us?"

Kristoff glanced at the other princess, whose face had moved from quiet acceptance to cultured impassiveness, with just the slightest downturned shoulders indicating that she expected him to say no. Or, that is, she expected the queen to say no. How was it that he knew these things? He'd only ever seen her once before this.

At his side, Princess Anna was holding her breath, the hope in his eyes setting something to twist in his chest.

"Well," he said, and she leaned forward just slightly. He grinned in a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment, because he had no idea what to do besides follow her lead. "Why not?"

Princess Elsa's jaw dropped. Princess Anna squealed and grabbed Kristoff's hands, yanking him towards the side of the bed. She dropped them hastily and backed away, eyes darting to the side. "Uh, maybe you should take a bath and get dressed first…?"

Kristoff's stomach dropped out.

He wasn't ready for this.


	6. Chapter 6

The reindeer let out a low moan and finally came to a stop at the treeline, hanging his head, his long legs shaking with fatigue. Rider and animal panted together, each worn out from the exertion and excitement. The reindeer made a soft noise that reminded her of a contented cat when Helena patted him lightly on the neck and he swung his head back towards her as she did, his eyes glinting with intelligence.

"Good…good boy," she whispered, and the reindeer snorted and tossed his head at her. She took this as her cue to dismount, boots thumping on the forest floor as she stood.

She turned her head to look back at the town, and frowned. She was surprised to find it in sharper focus than she was used to. She blinked a few times, but she could still make out the people as they moved in and out of the buildings, little moving blobs of color set against a white and beige backdrop. Usually from this distance she would have to squint to tell the difference between the snowy roofs and the frozen fjord, only the light reflecting off the frozen waters illuminating where the town ended and the sea began.

Too much time spent staring at papers, perhaps.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead as her thoughts turned inevitably to the day's workload. She had three meetings scheduled for today, had been expecting news from the North, knew that she'd probably have to go through another set of letters asking her permission to court her twin, and yet…

She dropped her hand and glared at the broad palm. She wasn't exactly royal material right now.

Helena's mouth dropped into a small "o" as she came to a sudden realization: she didn't know what material she was at all. Lower class, judging by the fact that she'd come to in a stable and was wearing what looked like peasant gear, if solid and dependable. And evidently not the kind of peasant with a lot of friends, although that may have been partly her reaction to the insult.

She grimaced. And injury. Her stomach was starting to feel a little better, but there was still that sphere of pain that lay lodged within her gut, and when she looked down at herself, if she ignored the hair covering her stomach, she could make out the telltale purpling of fresh bruises.

A sudden wind shot through the forest, setting the trees to rustling, and Helena shuddered. Her skin felt…itchy, and yet dull, in a painful way. Some sort of outside force was pressing into her from all sides, with darting little needles sinking under the skin of her fingertips. She shuddered again as the wind whipped back around. She had always liked the wind, how it brought her the smells of the world and sailed gently over her skin, but now it cut her to the bone. She brought her arms closer together, to reduce the amount of skin in contact with the air, but it did little good. There was still that alien feeling that sank through her skin and into her muscles, making them tremble.

The reindeer gave her a look that, were it human, would have been exasperated. It nudged her, its nose incredibly warm, and suddenly Helena understood.

This was _cold_.

This was what it felt like, to other people.

It wasn't calming, or comforting, or familiar. It wasn't a blanket that wrapped itself around her, whispering to her of the clarity of the cold. It wasn't a place she could escape to when her duties grew too numerous and her time too short, her mind drifting to the outdoors where the snowflakes fell without a care in the world. It wasn't the brilliant rush of her magic moving from imagination to stunning reality, shapes and towers and arches and swirls of power that thrummed with a wildness but could be contained, could be controlled, could be molded at her choosing.

It wasn't her closest friend.

It was just hurt.

She slowly sat down, stunned. Of all the things she had lost, the love of winter was what stung the most. No, it wasn't the love of winter, it was the fact that she was, in some respects, the physical embodiment of it. She drew her hand across a fountain and it froze at her behest; she breathed out and fat snowflakes appeared to amuse her when she couldn't sleep; her fingertips danced over her desk, the frost spiraling in beautiful patterns that had meaning only to her, now.

But…not now. Now…now she knew what the cold really was, and she found that she detested it.

The reindeer plopped himself down at her side and she found herself leaning toward him without even thinking, seeking out the warmth. She knew what heat was, but until now she had never understood, at a visceral level, other people's need for it. She wouldn't call it intoxicating, because that was too strong a word, but there was a certain something…intriguing, or alluring, about it.

The animal sighed and nosed her arm. She shot him an annoyed look but he responded only by nudging her again, and it was at that point that she realized her shirt was still in her hand. Oh.

Another icy blast punctuated her need for the shirt, and she hastily put it on, surprised at how quickly the chill was brought down to a manageable level by putting it on. As she did so, her fingers brushed something around her neck, and she brought it over her head and examined it.

It was a crystal necklace.

Her eyes widened.

"No…"

The necklace shook in her grip, and not because she was cold. The reindeer made a concerned noise, but Helena was well past caring about the needs of beasts. Her thin lips twisted into a snarl, a deep growl growing in her throat.

"That fucking BASTARD," she spat, in that man's voice. She stared at the necklace, remembering how she'd seen it on his neck, how she had convinced herself it was a simple bauble and nothing more because she was the queen and she had a job to do, because she didn't have the time to waste chasing old demons, how she'd had that moment of clarity seconds before she was overcome by sleep.

So. It seemed she did have a magical enemy. Not that idiot of a man, not unless he was an excellent actor as well; his attempt at receiving aid was pitiful at best and outright laughable at worst, and she could not find it within herself the ability to believe him in charge of her current situation.

But…

Her eyes grew distant as she stared at the people, a thought meandering through the nooks and crannies of her mind to come to light.

If she was here, in his body, then where was he?

And just like that, a terrible situation grew much, much worse.

* * *

Anna had suggested that they spend the day together. Against all odds, Helena had agreed, so they had each gone their separate ways to prepare: Anna to her room to dress, Helena to her bathroom to do the same, and Elsa back to Helena's office to think about what had just happened.

She sat herself down in Helena's chair and laced her fingers together underneath her chin, letting out a short, mirthless exhale beneath her breath when she recognized the gesture as one their father had often adopted. It lent well towards thinking on difficult topics, and the one she was mulling over now was one such thing.

She could not recall the last time her twin had accepted an invitation by their younger sister, numerous though those invitations were. Usually it was the just the two of them that sat down to breakfast, Elsa sipping at tea and smiling as Anna went on and on about a dream she'd had the night before, promising Elsa a sketch of whatever she'd been struggling to describe in due time. Her sketches were, like the princess herself, bold and bright and laced with color and passion, although to Elsa's trained eye she knew where Anna needed some work. She was an unfinished product still, but now that she was closer to fifteen than she was to fourteen she was beginning to come into herself, and it pleased Elsa to no end to watch Anna grow from girl to woman; stumbling, to be sure, not as well versed in the art of etiquette or royal bearing, but every day she saw more of what the future had in store for her sister, and it warmed her heart.

This was why it was such a disappointment that her other sister should show such little interest.

Helena certainly made a show of accommodating the wishes and needs of the littlest princess, providing her with all the trinkets, parties, books, tutors and specialized lessons that she could ever desire or want. Anna had been given the pick of the lot from horses with excellent pedigrees and gleaming, beautiful coats; she had received her choice of any number of paintings in the original with which to line her room - and as the only difference between Anna and an art connoisseur was that the former loved far too widely and intensely to be as discerning as the latter, this meant a fair number of them – and, in time, Elsa suspected that Helena would be watching over her when suitors came to call, stepping in to remove those who were too greedy for the wealth of Arendelle to care for the heart of an innocent girl.

None could say that Princess Anna was not well cared for, that she had everything she could ever want.

Everything she could ever want, that is, besides Helena's time, attention and love.

It wasn't fair to Helena to accuse her of hating Anna, simply because Elsa knew what an angered Helena looked like, and what she did to those who drew out her anger. Her irritation yesterday at the man had been out of line had been justified, yes; her reaction had not been, even though it had been perfectly in line with the woman that Elsa knew. Helena in a rage was a violent opponent indeed, whether she was fighting with words or with soldiers.

Nor was it true that she wished harm upon the girl. Helena was not the kind of person to engage in acts of petty deviance or mischief. If she hated or loved it was with her whole heart. As such, the lessons on subtlety in expressing royal displeasure had been markedly difficult for her to master.

It was most accurate to say that Helena wished that Anna had simply never been born. That revelation had been one of the most painful of Elsa's young life, when she watched the way Helena would look away as Anna prattled on, would turn away, would turn inward and away from someone she could only see as an annoyance to be dealt with. She didn't see Anna's gaiety or spirit because she had decided that Anna was to be tolerated, not loved.

Helena's was a mind that longed for simplicity in all things, for that crisp line of distinction that neatly separated black from white, and Elsa worried about how such a mind fared under the constant diet of looming deadlines, the daily juggle of keeping one subject happy at the risk of slighting another, navigating amongst councilors and nobles, each with their own complicated questions and less than hidden agendas.

Elsa sometimes wondered if perhaps their parents had erred in choosing to follow tradition to the letter and make the firstborn heir; none would object if Elsa had been chosen to wear the crown, and she could think of a few advisers who would have preferred it that way, too. Though both had been raised under the presumption that Helena was to be queen and Elsa her right hand that had not meant that Elsa hadn't slogged through the same lessons as her twin. She recalled many days where the two of them did their work side by side, Helena stubbornly insisting she was correct on some point whenever their tutor was present and hesitantly asking Elsa what she'd done wrong when they were in private.

She didn't begrudge her sister the crown, but she did think that its weight required a unique mind to bear.

On the other hand, Helena's willingness to use the scepter contrasted strongly with Elsa's fear of it. So perhaps their parents had been right. In more than one way. The thought made her sigh and come back to herself, realizing she had transitioned from a calmer presentation to running her fingers over her braid as she thought. She released it and smoothed her hands over the desk. It was too tempting to fall back on that nervous habit, but she couldn't put her hair up. It made her look too much like Mother.

She felt Anna coming before she turned the corner, and straightened in her seat just before Anna entered, now dressed in a green dress with a hem adorned by roses. Elsa's lips, previously drawn, turned up at the corners.

The girl gave her a look and Elsa chuckled, shaking her head. "It's nothing, I was just…thinking."

"You do that a lot," Anna said, sitting down on the desk, moments after Elsa moved the dishes to the side. The coffee was completely cold by now. "Gives you a little line riiiiight here." Anna tapped Elsa right between the eyes with a gentle fingertip, grinning as her older sister frowned and leaned away.

"Would that we were all as carefree as you, hmmm?" Elsa responded, tugging at the papers that Anna had placed herself upon. "Here, make yourself useful and look at the-Anna, you're going to have to-thank you."

Anna, now standing, accepted the papers and brought them to arm's length.

Elsa groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Not you, too."

Anna wrinkled her nose. "But I hate them, come on, Elsa, it's not a big deal." She sounded younger whenever she whined, tilting her head to the side as she tried to convince Elsa that her long term health was somehow unimportant.

"It is a big deal," Elsa said, stressing the words, "because in a couple of years your eyesight will be ruined and you'll look back and ask me 'oh Elsa, why didn't you look after me? Why didn't you remind me to wear my glasses?'"

"I'm not Helena," Anna muttered. "It's just that reading's a little hard sometimes, so-"

She stopped when Elsa raised her eyebrows in time with her hand, which was holding a pair of folded eyeglasses. Anna pouted. "But I hate how they look on me."

"You look fine." Anna's reading glasses made her look studious, older. It was a good look for her.

Helena's glasses made her look adorable. Elsa suspected that was precisely why the queen adamantly refused to be seen wearing them. Or wear them at all. Hence the squinting at everything that she tried to claim was part of her royal persona.

Anna unfolded the pair of glasses, her lower lip still jutting out as she slipped them on. "How come Helena doesn't have to wear them?"

"Because I can only bully her into so much before she turns and snaps at me, that's why." It was like a sheep trying to guide a wolf around. "You, on the other hand…"

"…can be guilted by an overbearing older sister," Anna finished. She looked down at the papers, at Elsa, and then promptly sat down in her sister's lap, squirming a little to get comfortable. Elsa tucked her chin over Anna's shoulder as the girl began to read while they waited for Helena to be presentable.


	7. Chapter 7

This day was just full of surprises.

To begin with, he'd woken up with breasts.

Then he'd discovered he now had magic. More importantly, the entire room had discovered this in the most awful way possible.

And then he had learned that not only did he now have "sisters", but their relationships were…not quite as he had thought they'd be. In retrospect, it made sense that, as the only child of three with the ice magic that had been passed down the royal bloodline for generations, the queen would find herself at odds with her siblings, even her twin, but it was one thing to go from being vaguely aware that there were three royal ladies, and quite another to being up close and personal and realizing that behind the pretty dresses and titles there were people, too.

Now, standing naked in front of a mirror, he discovered that he had no interest in women.

A day before, he was so certain of his sexuality that it hardly crossed his mind. Though he didn't interact with very many women, besides the ones he sold ice to, met on the street, or passed by on the way back up the mountain or home, he appreciated the female form. He may not have done so physically…yet, but that didn't mean anything. That was probably normal, and he wasn't looking for a wife, not since he was struggling at times to support himself and Sven, so while he had looked, and yearned, there hadn't been any opportunities to really…touch.

But now that he could, he found himself staring into the mirror, his head tilted slightly, a confused look on his face. It made his short little nose scrunch up in a way that he would normally have found endearing, even cute, but now seemed utterly neutral.

The rest of the queen's body was, frankly, excellent. She had a beautiful, slender form that relied on wide hips and a slim waist to produce curves that would have been intriguing, her breasts were the right size to fit her smaller chest, her legs long and shapely. Her hands he had tucked behind his back, reminding himself over and over that the tickling palms was from the water dripping down his arms and not from the magic.

It was a bit of a disappointment, really. On the one hand, he'd been terrified that with one wrong misstep he'd be unable to look away in what surely amounted to voyeurism of the worst kind, and had bathed with his eyes closed for that reason. On the other hand, discovering his lack of interest at a quick, guilty peak had been disheartening.

The queen's body was that of a woman, and nothing more. A gorgeous woman, but gorgeous in the sense of a beautiful cathedral or a well carved ice sculpture; wonderful, perhaps even awe-inspiring, but not sexual.

He glanced to the side, where, beyond the folding screen, several articles of clothing were arranged neatly by a silent maid who had entered and left so quickly he had barely any time to react. Still, there was a slight ring of ice around the edges of the tub, one that he hoped would melt quickly. The bathwater itself was now cold, but not in a way that he was familiar with it. To him, the cold was a brisk, dangerous force, one to be respected and feared but dealt with accordingly. But in the queen's body, with her magic flowing through his veins, to him the cold felt like a second skin. Not in a bad way, not like how he'd reacted this morning in a panic, but almost delicate. Every bit of frost felt like a little kiss that sent something to burning in his blood, a calling for something he could not describe.

Nor could he describe the clothing he had been given. He stared at it hopelessly, longing already for his shirt and pants. He could recognize the shoes, the dress, the jacket, but there were other…things that simply didn't make any sense to him whatsoever. There was something that looked like a dress, but it was far too short and too shear, and next to it was an odd looking vest with cups in the middle.

He considered calling the maid back, but he didn't know her name, didn't know if it was appropriate to ask her for help, and had no idea how to essentially admit that he would rather wear pants. She'd probably faint at the mere thought. Nobles and their servants were always so useless when it came to practicality.

Biting his lip, he looked over the clothes again and came to a decision. He'd wear the things he could recognize, and nothing more. Besides, if they covered everything up and he was indifferent to the cold, it didn't matter, did it?

* * *

Helena stopped in the doorway. "Well!" she said, holding out her hands, glancing at them quickly and then lowering them against her sides. "Well…your M-you wanted to spend the day together, so…what did you want to do?" she asked, looking pointedly at Anna.

Anna stared at her over her glasses, stricken for all of five seconds. "You're asking me-OH don't worry I totally have a plan I mean…why wouldn't I have a plan? I've just been wanting this for-so I thought we could have a picnic breakfast."

Both Elsa and Helena stared at her. Anna kept her mouth firmly closed as her gaze shot to the floor. The wind took the silence as invitation and began screaming past the window at full speed.

Elsa shifted so she could look in Anna's eyes; Anna, who was not, absolutely not, looking at her. "How would that work out, exactly?"

"…we could go into the forest," Anna mumbled. She was fiddling around with the papers. She snuck a guilty look at Helena and carefully laid them down on her desk, placing each one down atop the other in a deliberate arrangement from most important to least. Elsa braced herself for the look of annoyance that would make Anna recoil, but Helena showed no signs of caring about her younger sister's activities at all. Well, that also made sense.

"And take shelter under one of the rocky overhangs in the southern section, you mean?" Helena asked.

This time it was Elsa and Anna staring at her. Helena was good enough at geography when she had a map within arm's length and the question was important enough to require her attention, but she had never showed the same level of skill as Anna did when it came to direction.

Anna was nodding, her twin braids jumping against her front. "Yeah, that; that's what I was going to suggest. 'Cause it's cold, right."

Elsa snorted as she stood. "Someone's been spending too much time with the newcomers."

"…BECAUSE it's cold."

"Better." Elsa came over to where Helena was standing, and frowned. She looked splendid enough, but her hair was down, just barely long enough to brush against the tops of her shoulders. While it was a good look on her, it was plain, and quite different from her usual hairstyle. And there was something off about her, too; she looked a little…fuller, in certain ways.

Elsa sighed, watching as Anna popped up and came up to them, bouncing up on her toes and rocking back and forth as she waited for the queen's reaction. "I know that hiking isn't really your forte, but-"

"Oh no, I'm fine!" Helena said, flashing her a quick smile. Elsa stared at her, blinked, looked back at the desk where the coffee remained untouched, looked back at her smile, and decided not to say a word, lest she jinx it. "Actually a walk sounds very nice right now. Get out of the palace, you know," she said, and chuckled.

Elsa reminded herself that Helena did not drink. Anna, meanwhile, was regarding her with a mix of confusion and heartbreaking hope.

"So…you do want to go with us, then?" she asked, desperate to solidify the deal.

"Yeah," Helena responded with a shrug and another simple smile, and Elsa's jaw dropped for the second time within an hour.

* * *

Helena needed to reassess her options.

One, she could try to return to the castle, somehow beg entrance and an audience with Elsa and convince her by her personal knowledge that the "man" whom the princess was seeing was actually her sister.

Problems included her not being welcome in the castle, not able to get an audience, Elsa refusing to believe her or worse, believing her to be mad and deserving of being locked up.

Two, she could try to find out who had cursed her, and how, reverse the curse and extract some well deserved revenge before returning to her castle and her body in triumph.

Problems included her not knowing who had done so – though she had at least one clue – how she could reverse the curse herself, whether she was at risk without any magic herself to counteract their own power.

Three, she could sit and shiver as she tried to think of something better. That was the current option that she was exploring.

"…or I could kill myself," she muttered to the reindeer, who was quite content to sit beside her. He nodded and placed his head upon the ground, heedless of the snow, closing his eyes and making a noise of pure happiness, the kind known only to brutes and other lucky animals.

It was possible that in doing so, her consciousness would return to her body, and that only the man would die.

There was a certain logic to that idea. She knew, both from personal experience and her education that elemental magic was unique from the garden variety sorcerer or hedgewitch. With enough training, discipline, self-sacrifice and willingness to study the tomes of magic for years, one with the aptitude for it could be given the title of mage and granted power to manipulate objects. A child born with the ability to learn magic came about as rarely as one born without any pigment at all, and rarer still were the chances that they would be discovered. But if they were, they could choose several paths.

They could mix herbs together to create poultices or tonics that could cut fevers and halt bleeding. They could chant over a sword for days so that it might hold its edge twice as long as an ordinary sword; the palace currently employed one such sorcerer, a weedy little man.

They could peer into mirrors and describe smoky, half-formed images of things that may come, that may not come, that had come and had been forgotten, or were only imagined. Most of the people who were set at that task went mad sooner or later, wailing about futures that haunted them, the images burned over their eyes as they stared hopelessly into the distance, lost forever inside the emptiness of their own minds.

A mage picked up magic like a smith picked up a hammer or an artist a pencil. It was a tool; useful, capable of producing wonderful things to those who had no concept of scale, no idea of what true magic was, separate from the wielder and quick to gather dust if they ever let their talent slip for but a moment.

But her magic…

Her magic was the magic of kings, of gods who walked the earth.

In olden times, her ancestors marched with their armies, leading great packs of monstrous snowmen and hardened warriors wielding ice-axes and swords that refused to break, sending howling winds miles ahead of them so that their opponents would know to dread their arrival. They rode on huge warbeasts made of ice and snow, large, ugly, and ferocious things that defied all sense and laws of creation and made Helena's breath leave her when she thought of them. Male, female; the magic cared little for gender, and so neither did the populace; they flew their banners just as high for their warrior queens as they did their kings.

Back before there were borders, negotiations, and prissy ambassadors, there were lands to be claimed, ready for the taking. The native tribes, those few foolish enough to resist the inevitable onslaught, were scattered upon the winds that pursued them for leagues; the smart ones fell in line and learned the ways of their conquerors. The power, synonymous with the royal family and thus jealously guarded through carefully arranged marriages, boiled in their blood, made it thicker, stronger, leavened with the magic of the storm.

An elemental mage could never be apart from their magic. The magic longed for the master, and she could feel its call even now, like an invisible rope wrapped around her heart and tugging. It was not a tool anymore than one's hand or one's eyes were tools, but rather parts of a greater whole, one that would stutter and stagger under the loss.

Many a long, sleepless night she had calmed herself by the beat of her pulse, sustained by the ice that filtered through her blood, confident that if she lost all else, as she had been, that she would always have that heavy heartbeat.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, lips trembling as she stared at the ground. Reminiscing didn't help her situation at all. She swiped a large hand over her eyes and stood, biting her lip as she went over her options again, muttering under her breath as she paced. The reindeer's ears and eyes followed her, and he snorted whenever she made a particularly salient point, but she was still unsatisfied with her choices. Neither seemed promising, and the final option was obviously to be used only if her only other choice was to be trapped within a man's skin for the rest of her life.

The crystal necklace was her clue. She had researched what she could find about its origins, and knew it was linked with strange, mythical beasts, ones that wielded magic just as easily as she did – used to, she reminded herself with a pang of deep regret – ones that were as old as the ground beneath her feet. But she knew not where they lived or the extent of their powers, and their connection between the man who had knelt before her just yesterday.

And, of course, Elsa.

The reindeer heard them before she did, and she was alerted to that fact when he rose to his feet, shaking out his great mane free of the snow.

There came the sound of hooves, and Helena tensed. If the stablehands had returned with friends, she had little else to do but run and hope to lose them in the forest, and possibly herself at the same time. She didn't even have a knife on her.

But the jingling tack was accompanied by light laughter, laughter that she recognized.

Anna.

But what was she doing outside the castle? She had always been a sickly child; what was Elsa thinking, bringing her out into the cold?

Helena crouched, hiding herself behind a set of snowy bushes, and peered around the side. The sight of Anna's horse came first, followed by Elsa's, and then…

That was Helena's horse, Karitas.

And sitting atop it was…was…

A woman who looked exactly like her.

But the queen knew better.

Helena's eyes narrowed. It seemed she would not need to beg for an entrance, only make one.

She preferred it that way.


End file.
